


Life After the Searing Light

by leighdadee



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:57:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighdadee/pseuds/leighdadee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has tried to put the pieces of her life back together after things fall apart with Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life After the Searing Light

**Author's Note:**

> this is something that I've had sitting around in my drafts for a while ... I figured today might as well be a good a day as any to actually post it and see what comes of it ... enjoy? ... also feel free to let me know what you think ...

Grantaire stared at the blank page before her. It had been a year, but there were days when it still hurt like it was fresh. She had tried to move forward, pushing ahead and dragging her feet as she went. The group of friends she had loved were split and broken. It was all her fault. Enjolras had been her dream and happiness. She had been the one to stir up a fury of artistic passion, her blonde hair and blue eyes and smile that sent butterflies straight to her heart. And now the smallest memory of her would send icy daggers there instead. Not even the music playlists that had worked before would help. Alcohol didn't do anything either, it took far more than normal and healthy to push the thoughts and memories away. There was nothing she could do. There were times where she was angry at Enjolras, and it made the breakup a little easier to bear. But there were other times when she felt empty and sad and lonely, broken by everything.

Tossing the sketchbook aside, Grantaire stood and walked to the bathroom, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a wreck and she hated how she looked a vast majority of the time. Of course things had ended badly with Enjolras. How could they not? She was a goddess, while at her best, Grantaire was nothing more than a filthy mortal. Ignoring the medication sitting out beside the sink and the yellow sticky note that meant Feuilly had dropped by, and the scrawled message on it. (“take your meds, R, please . . . I heard you talking in your sleep again, try to lay off the vodka”) She just shook her head and stumbled into the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of vodka Feuilly was so against, putting it to her lips and taking a long drink. The burn was familiar and welcome by now. She knew it more intimately than she did anything else. The burn and then the numbness. That was why she drank. This was the only way she felt alive most of the time any more. Enjolras had blazed into her life, searing away everything else, and now that she was gone, all that remained was an empty black nothing. That's all she was any more.

Flopping down on the ratty sofa, she pressed the bottle to her lips again, not bothering with a cup or even chaser. There was no reason to any of her life any more. It had fled with Enjolras. She closed her eyes as she dropped her head back against the sofa, wishing desperately for something stronger to help clear away the horribly oppressive cloud sinking over her. Something stronger or something to take her away from all of this. She knew that if any of her friends knew how dark her mind was right now, they would refuse to let her be alone. Feuilly and Jehan were already trouble enough to evade.

Feuilly stopped by every other day or so whenever she could spare the time between work and the classes at the community center, always insisting that she bathe or take her meds or eat. Jehan came so often, her landlady had to chastise her about her boyfriend staying the night. Grantaire just laughed at that, although she supposed it was an easy mistake to make, considering how often Jehan would insist on staying to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't do anything when she fell into these moods. He was particularly adamant about staying to watch her after he walked in one time to find her unconscious on the floor of the kitchen surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol and medicine, her x-acto knife on the tiles beside the spreading puddle of blood from her wrist. She had been lucky that Jehan stopped by when he did, because the doctors insisted another half hour or so and she would have died.

Grantaire didn't feel lucky. She felt guilty and a failure and even more depressed. Jehan began to have panic attacks and worried and hovered more than before, even going so far as to move in with her for the next three months. She went to therapy, changed medications, and tried to pretend things were going good. But they weren't really.

She tipped the bottle back to her lips, trying to drown her thoughts. She didn't want to think or feel or anything. She wanted to float away into nothing. She had made sure to send a 'normal' sounding text to Jehan to keep him from worrying, should Feuilly mention anything to him. Then she walked into the bathroom and took a few pictures on snapchat of her taking the medication (or at least what would look like she had) and sent them to Feuilly. Then she turned off her cell phone and locked the door to her apartment (although it wouldn't do much good – almost all of her friends knew about the spare key hiding place). She shoved her ipod into the dock, turning on the soft and slow playlist, curling back up on the sofa with her bottle held tightly in her hands, tipping it to her lips again.

Some time later, Grantaire felt drunk enough to numb the pain to where she didn't feel the blackness would envelop her and steal her away. To where she didn't feel there was a void sucking her into the nothingness. She was just empty. Broken the way Enjolras had left her. It was a familiar emptiness. The dark of the last year had lessened the pain of it somewhat in this initial moment. She knew if she were to dwell on the dark and emptiness it would swallow her whole. But for now she was simply as she was.

There were times when she tried to remember what her life had been like before Enjolras. To try and go back to whatever she had been before the radiant burst of light had seared itself into her heart and soul. But she can't remember that far. It felt like Enjolras had always been in her life. That there was no start to them, even as absolute as there was an end. That they had always been together, revolving around each other and sharing the earth. Of course, she knew that was a bit ridiculous. She hadn't known Enjolras her entire life, even if it felt that way sometimes. There had to be a version of herself before meeting the blonde, but she can't remember that version. It's as if that version was dead and long since gone from the world, never to return.

Perhaps it's for the best that Enjolras has gone. Better to save the one of them that could be saved. Grantaire knew she was far from help and hope of any kind, she had known that for most of her life. But Enjolras could do anything with her life. She could change the world and save millions of people and above all that, be happy. And that thought made Grantaire smile for a moment. Enjolras could be happy. Of course it would be without her, but there was a part of her that always doubted why Enjolras even put up with her in the first place, much less agreed to date her. So the idea of Enjolras happy without her wasn't too foreign an idea. As for herself, she was past the point of redemption or happy ending. There would be no beautiful sunset and smile for her. No, it was all the murky twilight and haze of smoke and aftertaste of alcohol. That was what her future held. For as long as she had a future, that was.

The thought stuck in her head. As long as she had a future. She doubted it seriously, especially given how she lived. But the thought of taking it away again by her own doing crept along the edges of her mind. She couldn't stop to think of the way everyone else would react or feel, just reassuring herself they would be relieved to be rid of her, once the initial sadness wore off. Of course they would all be happy to be free from her issues and the nastiness of her personality. There would be no more having to stop by to pester into taking medication, no more spending weeks at another apartment to keep someone from killing themselves, no more senseless arguing for the sake of debate in the middle of their meetings. There would be no more Grantaire. And that was best for everyone.


End file.
